c y r i l o n e o u s

March 29, 2014

It was unclear to me how I was lying face-down in the sand. It’s an odd position to wake up in in a dream, but strangely, it was comforting. At the same time, I saw myself from the outside, observing my partially buried body. I was weak and drowsy, just as I was when I fell asleep. My arms were spread out like my body was surrendering to the ground, as if I was ready for the earth to take me and eat me alive. Of course, that would be silly in the present moment, I thought. After all, I am just lying in the sand with my face planted into the absurdity of my own unconscious. Unless some freak rift in space-time rips a new dimension into my head, I decided that it wouldn’t be so strange if the sand did swallow me whole.

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This is the second time I’ve dreamt about going back in time to warn people about the future. 

In the first one, I tried to warn my mom, but I was a mute kid.

This time, I warned my sister and a group of elementary children in an abandoned house during a storm under a dining table.


December 27, 2013

Warm breath on my neck. Someone was carrying me, cradling me, walking briskly with long, quick strides. I found myself partially paralyzed. “Oh, you’re awake. Did you sleep well?” Your voice was like velvet. Deep and rumbling like a distant thunder over the ocean. I seems that I’m in love with you. Hm. I noticed how fixated and hung to every word that came out of your mouth and the sound your clothes made as you walked and memorized how your dry, cold hands were placed under my knees. I was cold, so I curled up and drew myself closer into your chest. I could smell the faint headiness of your cologne, lingering with the humidity of far lands, leftover from the long distance you have traveled.

I breathed it in and deeply that my head spun. It was intoxicating. 

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In the dream, I woke up in a bed much larger than my actual one. I was in a hotel room where everything was white, washed out, and slightly gray. The only color I could make out was the pale amber glow emanating from the lamp on the nightstand, and it looked as if it were about to burn out like a candle. It was freezing and I couldn’t fall back to sleep. I was shivering, even under dozens of white sheets and thick comforters.

I remember feeling scared, sad, and lonely enough that it physically hurt. The pain crept through my back and branched through my arms and legs. Since I was on the right side of the bed, I crept my arm to the other side of the bed, hoping to feel something warm. There was nothing. It was vacant. No one. Just more blankets and pillows. I turned to my side and pulled the covers over my head. “Where are you?” I cried out. I looked to where my feet were and heard the sound of the wind blowing. I rolled onto my stomach and started crawling towards the faint howling. It was another world under the sheets. I was surrounded by creams, ivories, and champagne colors. It was warmer, a little brighter, and much more vast. It was like an ocean of fabrics — linens, silks, satins, fleece, sherpa — though, it was still a little chilly. I shuffled, scuffled, and shimmied for at least a few yards until I saw an unusual empty space the size of a large watermelon. There was something invisible there and was radiating a warm light. I reached out and put my hand in the center of the empty space. The warmth was intoxicating, and as I began to prop myself up to get closer, I was grabbed by the ankles.

"Found you." 

The voice playfully flipped me onto my back and tugged me towards him/whatever it was. His grip loosened. He glid his hand on the tops of my feet as a way of saying “follow me.” And so I did.

(As always, I am unable to see any distinguishable features, like his face. I can’t see it even if I tried. But it was him. It was definitely him. Whoever this was.)

He went in the same direction, which was the way I came in. It grew grayer the further I crawled, but the temperature remained pleasantly warm. When we reached the end, I threw the covers off from above me. All of the sheets flew into the air and landed on the floor in origami shapes. I sat up on the edge of the bed, looked around… where the heck did he go? There was no sign of him. It made me terribly sad. I got up to look at the miraculous blanket origami on the floor, but deflated as soon and I stood up. It made me even more sad. 

I dragged myself to the edge of the bed again, sat there, and thought, “Dafuq he wanted me to follow him for?” I flung myself backwards. I noticed that there wasn’t a ceiling. I could see the night sky going at high speed. This made me anxious, assuming that this is a sign that time is passing by quickly and it’s not stopping for me. As I tried to get up, a sudden weight pinned me down. A body. It was a cold body and it freaked the frickle frackle out of me.

"I’m here!"

Pfffft, it was him haha. He had tossed himself on top of me like a ragdoll and just hung there like a derp. I started to laugh. He just lied there. I felt his smile grow on my cheek. His body gradually warmed up and I hugged him to speed it up. He still didn’t move his body, but he lifted his head slightly.

"What do you want to do?"

"Let’s just stay like this until you can move."

"I agree. I like this. Keep hugging me."

Preface(?): If not all, most of my dreams have included, in some way, a romantic interest. He’s always there, even though he isn’t the “star” of the dream. He would usually take form of a past flame, but is able to take on different “physical” forms. I know that it’s him simply by just knowing it. Yeah, it’s weird, I know. It’s like I’m living a double life while I sleep and I have a different set of memories apart from my actual ones. I’m sure it’s normal… I think. Anyway, on with the dream I had a few nights ago:

The air in my room was gray and hazy. It was dark and cloudy out. It must have been around 5 or 6pm. My hair was damp and I was minimally clothed, so I assumed I had just gotten out of the shower. 

I sat on my bed and scootched myself in the corner against the wall. I pressed my shoulders back firmly, hard and long enough so that it’ll leave marks on my skin. I pressed with intention. I wanted the imprint. The rough texture gave me a stinging high and out of nowhere, my head was hit with a memory. (A fake memory, mind you.)

There was a man standing a few feet away from me. I couldn’t make out his face, but I knew he had a bit of a scruff and that his expression was stern and distressed. It was him. I knew it was him. He grabbed me by the shoulders and clutched them, screaming, “Don’t go! Please don’t leave! I need you! I need you with me!” He was angry. His nails sunk into my clay-like skin. He repeated these four sentences until his anger turned into tears. His voice trembling but his expression severe. He took me in closer, softening his embrace. He was a man of pride and that it took a lot for him to admit how he felt. It tore me to pieces. In this “memory” I was about to cut ties with him. I wanted so much to be with him and I knew there was something between us, but I knew it wouldn’t work out in the end. I wanted to make it work. I don’t know. I couldn’t decide.

I held his face and touched heads with him. “The risk,” he said telepathically. I repeated him without even knowing why. “The risk.” This puzzled me. We began to pull away from each other. I wanted to catch a glimpse of his face but I found myself back in my gray room. My hair was wetter, my eyes were blurred, and my back very sore. I pried my shoulders off the walls to feel the bumps and ridges. It was like putty. Touching it made quick ripples, like water. Then it turned into a cavity. It alarmed me and I shot up while the loose remaining tears fell out of my eyes. I did a little shimmy and felt something heavy and loose. I reached in and pulled out my heart. It was still beating. I got up and opened the window. I threw it into the street. A jogger came running by and stopped to jog in place where it landed. He stared at it.

Huff. Hey Cyril! Huff huff. How’re you doing?” He took a chug of water from his sports bottle.

"I’m fine," I smirked. 

"I think you dropped something." He nodded, saluted me, and jogged away.

I closed the window and sat staring at my heart pulsate. “It’s probably scraped and bruised and totally unusable now,” I whispered to myself. I waited for something to happen. A bird to peck at it, a car to run over it to see it splatter. Anything. But what I think what I really wanted was for someone to pick it up, ring my bell, and hand it to me. “Why did I throw it out there in the first place?”

I walked outside and it was gone. The burden was gone. 


Last night’s dream was a film noir.

Cramped alleys and severely dim lights. 

Dark, gray, smoky, and a single blinking red sign. 

Breathing burned my throat. 

It smelled like wet concrete and gasoline. 

The people were still, eerie shadows, almost ghost-like. 

As long as you pay them no mind, they won’t hurt you. 

I was two people, both the leader and sidekick, and we drove a motorcycle. 

I/We(?) hopped bars and kicked bad guy butt. I suffered quite a few blows. I returned them, knocking them out. We had guns but never had to use them. I bruised and bled, but recovered quickly. The fighting was over and we rested. 

Sidekick-me tried giving a homeless guy $5. He didn’t want it from me. I passed it on to leader-me and the homeless guy eagerly snatched it from my hands and waddled out the door.

He decided to take advantage of our charity and rode off with my/our(?) motorcycle. 

Sidekick-me was taken aback, but leader-me wasn’t bothered by it at all.

"Let him have it. We have legs," I/she (?) said. 

We took our scotch and brandy to-go, looking for something to do, someone to find. We had some sort of purpose, but what that was, I’m not totally sure. 

Last night, dreamt I was driving downtown, using my GPS to find the nearest Dunkin Donuts. I really wanted a coffee.

I was having a hard time, so then I flew a helicopter into a swanky party in Beverly Hills, because they’re the only place with Dunkin Donuts coffee.

They saw my desperation, but didn’t give me what I wanted. Instead, they gave me scotch, wine, and martinis. I drank it all, but didn’t get drunk. I still wanted my flippin’ coffee. I grew more and more frustrated, so I pulled out a megaphone and whispered, “Hhhhey. Where da coffee at…?” My voice blended in with the crowd and no one heard me.

>:c Jfc, why was I whispering?

I left the party and sat on their front porch smoking a cigarette, but then I remembered that I don’t smoke. I flicked it into a nearby bush.

It set on fire. It grew and the mansion was in flames in seconds. I started panicking.

I ran to the back to see if the people were alright, and there they were, quietly roasting marshmallows over an expensive house on fire. Everyone was dead silent with their attention focused on their roasting. Then they collectively glanced at me. Instead of being creeped out, I scolded them for putting themselves and others in danger by sticking around, and I pleaded them to follow me out to safety. While I tried to ask for a phone to call for help, the host, dressed in a red priest robes, roboticly walked up to to me, handed me a skewer and a marshmallow, and asked me to join the ritual. Everyone was staring at me. They all had the same face.

Properly freaked out, I ran to my helicopter, which was miraculously still working, and flew away from the scene.

I still didn’t have my coffee. As much as I try to avoid the place, I settled for Starbucks. Sighh. =_=

Last night, I dreamt I was being tortured in a daycare center, along with a bunch of toddlers and teens. After escaping alone, I gathered an army and went on a rescue mission to save them.

Rambo style.


My body ached. Even my head. It hurt to think.

I was stressed out, so close to a panic attack.

I was a smoker.

I smoked constantly.

The smoke burned by throat.

There was pain when I inhaled.

There was pain when I exhaled.

It was a relieving sort of pain.

It was strange how the burning

pacified my racing thoughts.

I don’t even smoke in real life.

I stood in tall building with rusty, yellow lights,

overlooking a dark forest,

just breathing smoke,

knowing that if I breathed in normal air,

my thoughts wouldn’t be stable.

It was nighttime.

I was nervous.

I was alone.

Last night,

I dreamt I was eating a giant chocolate bunny.

But it was a communal bunny

so I had to share it with the village.

Last Night’s Dream: 2.25.2012 - Part One

I was invited to Robert Pattinson and Kristen Stewart’s wedding. (Why was it them? I don’t really know.) It was held in a 3-acre field somewhere in the country side. It was so pretty. A huge clearing surrounded by tall grasses, apple trees; everything was gleaming with a soft golden glow. Who wouldn’t want to get married in a place like this?

There were several of us without a wedding gift, so I then went with a bunch of young guests, about 15 of us, to a crowded, gray, dreary shopping mall. Forgot how it transitioned, but we ended up on a planet as big as a city — a very small planet that you can probably circumnavigate within an hour or so. The grass was neon green, the dirt was orange, rocks and pebbles were cobalt blue. Everything was vivid and neon-colored and borderline terrifying.

We were able to see Jupiter, which was as close to us as we see our moon in the sky. It was spewing strange liquid-like sparks or lava, and it continued to rain down on us. Though it felt like water to me, it hurt the others.  We sought out shelter. One of the guys in the group announced that he had a house he used to live in around the area but was probably abandoned. While searching for his old house, I passed trees heavy with apples and another tree with a dead couple that hung themselves just recently. Super creeped out, I clung to the guy in front of me. I was so frightened, I couldn’t help but grab on to the closest thing to me. He was tall with dirty blonde hair. He looked at me and talked to me so gently and with so much concern. He offered me a bite of his apple and I calmed down. I liked him. I kept close to him for a while.

We found the house and explored the interiors. Everything was covered in dust and ridden with cobwebs. We discovered a door that led to a mirrored version of the same house we were in. Left was right, right was left. As we walked through the door, the room that we were trying to leave began swirling with terrible neon yellows, hot pinks, and greens. The longer you stood in it, the slower you moved until time completely stops you.

I was the third to last to walk through. It was agonizingly difficult to move. It was like walking through a dense, gelatinous soup. I felt a surge of fear, so I pushed myself to take bigger and quicker strides to get myself closer to the door. But because of that impulsive decision, I lost the grip of the girl behind me. The two didn’t seem like they would make it and my heart sank to the bottoms of my feet . I’m through the door.

"Guys! RUN!" Someone shouted.

"Hurry! Don’t let it get you!" yelled another.

I tried to grab them by the hand to pull them inside, but I couldn’t reach. I panic. One little blonde girl strangely had longer arms and was able to save one of them. She reached out to save the last one but fell inside herself. We all saw that neither of them moved and it was too late.

They became completely still with an expression of terror fixed on their faces. We had to keep moving or the creepy neon colors will get us too. I closed the door while guilt knocked my nerves around.

We were panicked and tried to figure out a way to save them. I admitted what I did, and apologized but no one really paid attention, except the girl who was behind me while we were walking through. She stood next to me  and rested her head on my shoulder. I embraced her and continued to tell her I was sorry. That I should have thought of others than only myself. That I betrayed her and the other girls’ safety. That I gave her a reason to fear for her life. That I shouldn’t have let go.

My shoulder became damp.

One person bravely opened the door again and all we could see through it was pitch black.

"I know this is really hard for all of you, but don’t stop me. I’m going in," he said.

"That’s what she said,"  someone blurted.

The guys chuckled.

The girls scoffed.

I laughed along with the guys.

He went through.

We stood in silence as while the darkness absorbed the lights from our flashlights. We called out to him but there was no answer. Just an muffled sound of our own voices, kind of like talking into a pillow. Another one of us walked through. We called his name, and the same thing happened.

Then we all went through. I was so scared. I really wanted to hold someone’s hand. But before I knew it, we were somewhere else.

Obnoxious, flickering, florescent lights.

A red EXIT sign.

A red and green light indicating occupancy.

We looked at each other in confusion, and cautiously walked through the exit.

Asteroid. We’re on an asteroid in an asteroid belt.

Oh, and look. There’s a playground down this crag.

TBC, maybe.

Last Night’s Dream: 10.24.2012

I had a dream of my grandfather’s passing, who is currently suffering from Alzheimer’s. We had a party for him to see him off.

It was held in a park with a few trees and plenty of grassy areas and small hills. The atmosphere was cool and humid with the sun barely touching the horizon. It was very pleasant and serene.

He was able to walk. I spent as much time with him as I could.

No one was sad or crying.

Mr. Bunny somehow manifested himself inside my sleeps. I had reoccurring dreams of him a couple of years ago. Above is my drawing of him.
He did not give me pleasant dreams. In fact, he continually attempted to dress me in a carrot costume so he could eat me. His other hobbies consist of Backgammon, maintaining his bow-tie collection, and tea parties. If he wants to eat you, he will first charm you with his fluffy adorableness and his gentleman-like demeanor.
And then he’ll bare his molester-grin, asks you your dress size, and then starts to iron a carrot costume on a flower-print ironing board.

Last Night’s Dream: 2.19.2011

We had a private wedding, a familiar stranger and I. I felt we knew each other for a long time, but you’ve been absent for so long, I could barely recognize you. You took on many faces, like masks. Still in my poofy, pink dress, you took my hand and we ran away from our parents like fugitives, before I could even say “I do.” We took shelter in huge, abandoned, flamboyant palace. It was laced with bold colors and gold, kind of like Byzantine architecture, but circus-like. We were almost flying, we ran so fast. I hadn’t had the chance to speak of even admire my surroundings. I only noticed that your face changed.

You found a dark room to hide in and pulled me in. You left the door cracked so we could see if anyone was coming. Before we could celebrate a successful runway, “CYYYYRIIIIIL! WHERE ARE YOU? CLEAN THE BATHROOM!” I didn’t know whose mom that was but she sounded pretty pissed. The eyes roll and the clothes come back on. I dragged my feet out of the hiding place, and you suddenly grabbed my hand and started running. Your face changes.

We ended up in a suburb somewhere in the tropics. There wasn’t a person in sight. We pillaged as many banana trees we could come across and picked out a random house to live in. We headed straight towards the bathroom to see if the pissed voice out of nowhere was waiting for me there. Coast was clear and we went about our business creating banana babies for our children. I mean, AS our children. We made at least 15 babies. Babies that were bananas. Bananas that we stole from everyone’s front lawns. They had Q-tip/toothpick appendages and faces drawn with Sharpie. We named 4 of them in honor of our parents, and the rest were named after obscure vegetables. During his time, you had the best face of all. No mask, it was just your own head, and you were quite beautiful. We lived happily without anyone else. No neighbors, relatives, or friends. Just the two of us and our banana children. “Lovin’ You” by Minnie Ripperton starts playing in the background and the credits rolled.

The dream ends and I woke up. I had banana oatmeal for breakfast.

I felt guilty.

Last Night’s Dream: 2.14.2011

You hopped out of your motorcycle and approached me slowly with a knowingly gaze. Your face was aged and your hair was graying, and you had a very becoming beard. I almost bawled at the sight of you and engulfed you with a tight embrace.

Your little brother was awkwardly standing by, peeling the label off a beer bottle, waiting to depart on the motorcycle. We all hopped on at the same time, and fell sideways. After two more tries, we were able to drive off into the sunset.

Your little brother fell off and died along the way and you didn’t seem to be bothered. I fell off and survived. You were bothered, but didn’t come back to pick me up. Good thing I had my jet-pack.